How the Mighty do Fall
by Morgaur
Summary: Basically, a series of poems on the fall of various main characters from the Silmarillion. Will be updated infrequently, as a consequence of too much work and an unruly brain.
1. Hurin

**Well, in response to RandomCelt's request, a rhyming poem. I don't think I did too well – probably should stick to free verse. It allows more spontaneity, which is what I am good at. Read and review – as harsh as you want. Just don't flame me, kay?**

_His mighty battleaxe singing  
In black blood steaming  
The hands of Hurin Thalion  
Weary not as day draws on_

"Aurë Entuluva" bursts from his lips  
As before his blade a troll slips  
And falls, black blood flowing, 'midst the dead  
Then flings Hurin up his fierce head  
Eyes flashing, chest heaving, unafraid  
As comes the next foe to face his blade

_His mighty battleaxe singing  
In black blood steaming  
The hands of Hurin Thalion  
Weary not as day draws on_

Again and again echoes the cry  
Full seventy times, 'neath the darkening sky  
Till axe blade, steeped in smoking blood  
Withers away, it cannot hold the flood  
So weaponless did Hurin fall  
A prisoner, he who stood so tall

_His mighty battleaxe singing  
In black blood steaming  
The hands of Hurin Thalion  
Weary not as day draws on_

Think not of his long suffering  
Nor on his death o'er a cliff plunging  
Avert thy gaze from his shame  
Forgive his sorrow, and curse the name  
Of Morgoth, foul lord of evil  
Who brought so great a one to ill

_His mighty battleaxe singing  
In black blood steaming  
The hands of Hurin Thalion  
Weary not as day draws on_

Remember him thus, on the plain  
Of the Nirnaeth, alone amongst the slain  
Last of all the mighty warriors to fall  
Of the valiant Edain, and the Eldar fair and tall  
Sing of him thus, a hero proud  
Hurin Thalion, bloody but yet unbowed

_His mighty battleaxe singing  
In black blood steaming  
The hands of Hurin Thalion  
Weary not as day draws on_

**Gasp. Done. Don't think too bad of me. It'll take me months to get this kind of poetry right.  
And yes, this has just been re-posted to this story. I have not taken down the original, I don't think I need to.**


	2. Fingon Part 1

**Right. Here is the first of perhaps two or three chapters just dealing with Fingon. Enjoy, all.**

* * *

Alone upon the field of battle I stand, I will not flee the plain  
Though across Anfauglith lie strewn the bodies of the slain  
My hosts of noble Eldar, faithful Edain, valiant Naugrim  
Bloody and mired now is my armour, the gleam of my sword grown dim  
Yet still before its blade fall the orcs, bodies cloven asunder  
But hark! Who now comes, footfalls like peals of thunder?  
Hai! A foe worthy of the fight, Lord of the Valaraukar, Gothmog  
Flail of the accursed Morgoth, titan of fire and shadow, foul Balrog

_Blades clashing, fire howling, shadows flickering  
Light gleaming, sword darting, armour shimmering  
Forms twisting, blows falling, fell voices roaring_

His flaming axe flashes forth, its broad fiery blade blazing  
As I turn towards him, thrusting aside a dying troll, its eyes glazing  
To Varda Tintallë, Manwe Súlimo, I pray, to dark Námo also  
That unto the Halls of Mandos I may come, for full well I know  
That here I must die, for from this plain of death leave not I  
Unless the accursed Morgoth himself before my blade should die  
I lunge forth my sword, a snake of silver darting forth; ha! Now reel!  
He sweeps aside, hurls down a blow to my helm; rings out the clashing of steel

_Blades clashing, fire howling, shadows flickering  
Light gleaming, sword darting, armour shimmering  
Forms twisting, blows falling, fell voices roaring_

**Well, there you go. This may be updated tomorrow - it may not be for weeks. Eru alone can tell.  
****Read and review, please.**


	3. Finrod Felagund

**Couldn't finish my Fingon poem - yet - so I wrote a Finrod Felagund one. It's supposed to be sung by the elves still in Nargothrond, after Luthien and Huan rescued Beren from Tol-in-Gaurhoth. (I'm writing that name from memory, so if it's wrong I'm sorry).**

**Enjoy, but please review :-)**

* * *

Ai! Finrod, Finrod Felagund, to you we give this song  
Founder and great king of Nargothrond, valiant and strong  
From us you went, fulfilling your oath, on a road hard and long  
With Beren Camlost, Erchamion, with the son of Barahir  
You went, tall and bright, 'gainst the darkness, shunning all fear  
Ai! Woe to us, grief upon us, that we let you go, our King most dear  
Few companions had you – deep is our grief, that they were so few  
To the sons of Feanor we listened, though we all knew  
That your oath must you keep, to your word hold true  
And we, our duty to you, must follow, e'en unto the gates  
Of Angband, under the peaks of Thangorodrim, so should our fates  
Bind us – yet we failed, and to Sauron sent you, you whom he hates  
So in the darkness you passed away, your soul to Mandos fled  
As in the dungeons of your own tower, in the filth lay your fair head  
Sauron's wolf slain by you, but from your wounds your life bled  
Now your crown Orodreth wears, and in your halls darkness lies  
And for you all weep, from Eldar e'en unto the bird that flies  
Your lament we sing, and far off across the seas Manwe cries.

**And there we go. Tomorrow - hopefully - I'll have a Gollum story up - not on this, as a separate story. Anyway, again, please review.**


	4. Fingolfin

**Not sure if this really works. I don't think it's actually a poem, more a piece of rhyming prose. But hey. Anyway, enjoy - I hope! Just remember, I don't mind you trashing my fics as long as you tell me why. 'Course, I like being praised as well (hint, hint) ;-)**

* * *

Behold, slow and vast, rising like a dark storm-cloud  
From his iron throne, as echoes clear a ringing voice from above ground  
Melkor, from might arisen, the Morgoth, Dark Lord of Arda  
Challenged by the Noldo High King, Fingolfin Finwë's son, few are prouder  
Who in rage rode hither, to the iron hell-gates of Angband  
After the Noldor's siege was in fire broken, flames drowning the land

Towering over the elf-king, shield unblazoned, night-black  
Dread Grond uplifted, the storm-lashed sky from fear shoots forth a lightning crack  
Armour of darkness, helm of shadows, blackness impenetrable  
From the depths three lights blaze forth valiant, to dim them the shadows unable  
As a star below him Fingolfin shines, Calaquendë, fair, strong and tall  
Ringil unsheathed, a ray of light and hope, yet over it Morgoth's might casts a pall

Down from the heights flashes Grond, thunderbolt from hell  
Aside leaps Fingolfin, as a chasm it rents, but soon to sound his death-knell  
Seven times Ringil flashes, seven wounds in black flesh scores  
Seven howls of pain echo forth, and Thangorodrim trembles to Morgoth's roars  
Down as a crumbling mountain Melkor's shield crushes the elf-king  
Thrice down to his knees, thrice he rises, fair hair scarlet-daubed, blood seeping

'Gainst the lip of a mace-torn crater the weary Noldo strikes his foot  
To the blackened and burnt ground he falls, shattered helm rolling away in the soot  
As a fallen hill Bauglir's mighty foot upon his neck stamps down  
Now once bright eyes begin to dim, his face paling, rimmed by golden hair as a crown  
Strength failing, a last blow he strikes, slashing deep the foot so vast  
And as the black steaming blood gushes forth, his spirit to the Halls of Mandos flies at last

In scorn Belegurth – name-worthy – breaks the body still warm  
And to the ravening wolves would cast it, but Manwë Súlimo protected it from harm  
Stooping as a storm of wind Thorondor comes, mightiest of his race  
With claws keener than blades of ice slashes he to the bone Morgoth's dark face  
Fingolfin's body he bears away, to a peak in the Crissaegrim high  
Over it Turgon his son a cairn raises, there till the end of time Finwë's son to lie

**Well, there you go. I feel the ending a little short, but I couldn't think any other way to do it.  
I take orders, you know (Cod and chips please!) but I can't gurantee that I'll post them quickly. You may have to wait a few weeks - I know, it's terrible, but I'm going to uni next year and I am literally up to my ears in study. Oh God, how I hate studying now!  
Anyway.**


	5. Fingon Part 2

**Well, here we are at last. Fingon part 2; the end of Fingon. Gothmog's POV. I prefer to think of Gothmog in this way, not as a stupid monster thing. Enjoy.**

* * *

Ha! See thou, elf-king, over valiant  
'Gainst me raisest thou thine hand  
Foolish bravery; such are elves, defiant  
I, Gothmog, in all the land  
None mightier, this plain my dread fire lights  
Shalt fall, Fingon, puny one –  
Hai! Ah – this elf has spirit, see how he fights  
Futile; this battle is done  
Die thou, now, 'neath blazing axe and mighty arm  
As lightning down, ha! now fall  
What? Th'art alive? Dost bear some great charm  
Or art thou not elf at all?  
No matter; whatever thou be, shalt die now  
Cast thine blazing whip round him  
Bind in flames those arms that his strength him endow  
See Death comes, his face grim!  
Thy helm I cleave, so! Ah, white flame doth leap high  
As thy skull I split in twain  
Over him no elf-maiden shall ever sigh  
Crush him; thy blows fall as rain  
That proud banner, grind it deep into the mud  
Pound all with thy steel maces  
Body, armour, banner – mud, kneaded with blood  
See glory in thy faces!

Now, the end is here; to Serech we go; Turgon the Craven, Huor the Fool, Hurin the Hapless still remain! Their deaths we must now encompass – onward, my Valaraukar, onward to victory! But remember, Hurin must not be slain: him Melkor wishes to see; bind him strong. The others – death take them from the circles of the world!

* * *

**So, people, please review and tell me what you thought!  
When he says: Cast thine blazing whip round him, he's speaking to his Valaraukar. I prefer that term, rather than Balrog. Don't know why.**


	6. Glaurung

**Glaurung. Need any more explanation?  
Anyway, back to this after too long away. God, I missed doing this.  
Enjoy, people!**

* * *

In the pits of Thangorodrim I arose  
From reeking caverns where fire living flows  
By the Hand of He Who Arises In Might  
Into being brought to devour all light

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

With the rivers of flame from Angband flowing  
As roaring death down the mountainside rushing  
The hosts of the Noldor scattered by my cry  
And their ashes I scattered across the sky

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

The vast host of Maedhros I flayed and tore  
Like leaves in a firestorm, drenched in gore  
The one-hand before my face fled childlike  
And so till Azaghal my belly did strike

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

Nargothrond could not withstand my dread power  
And my victory nothing could turn sour  
Turin I sent fleeing senseless to the north  
And Finduilas prisoned was carried forth

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

Nienor to her brother I sped swallow-swift  
And from her mother gleefully I did rift  
The deadly doom of my dread Master I worked  
With webs of deceit that in the shadows lurked

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

To Brethil I came, to slay the Agarwaen  
For his star was on the wax after a wane  
The gorge of Cabed-en-aras before me  
I leapt, Gurthang flashed, my hot life-blood ran free

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

Yet even dying I slew - Nienor Niniel  
I broke her, in despair to her death she fell  
Brandir, then, though dead I lay, by Turin's sword  
And last, Turin himself, so cursed by my lord

_Born from fire, filled with fire, lord of fire  
__Death my slave, Fear my hound, Victory in my hand  
__The menace of my eyes none can stand_

* * *

**And there. Ends a bit abruptly, but hey.**


	7. Numenor

**Hey people**

**Sorry it's been so long since I put anything up on HTMDF; there are two reasons. One: My muse deserted me. It left me stranded and alone, forlorn upon the empty and barren sands of silence while the cool seas of inspiration hissed and sucked upon the strand — close, and yet too far. My muse is back now, which is why I managed to write this.  
****The other reason is that bane of us all: Real Life. Real Life intervened, with study and exams. And an unconscious computer, and damaged fingers, but that was less important.  
****Anyway, this poem has no rhymes, though all but the first stanza follow an 8, 8, 6, 6, syllable structure. It was originally meant to be 8, 7, 6, 5, but I couldn't get it to work.  
****Long note. I'm shutting up now.**

* * *

No  
Do not  
Fear  
The dark threatening wings!  
No  
Do not  
Cower  
From the dreadful looming eagles!

Rim to rim, edge of sky and sea;  
Sight flies away, tracing the line -  
All about a forest  
Grows tall from the blue sea.

Golden flags, red pennons flutt'ring,  
Armour glints; heroes champ the bit.  
Slaves straining; oars creaking,  
Cloudlike sails unfurl.

Into the West; 'neath dark shadows -  
Skywide dread eagles of dark portent.  
Pride and spirit uplifting  
Spirits too mean to dare.

The Golden King; ignorant pride  
Upon the prow in state standing  
With war against the Gods  
Flame into Paradise!

The fires of dark sacrifice  
Smoke trailing skyward, challenging;  
Gilded liar, dark slave,  
Spawns malicious evil.

Upon Valimar's glitt'ring shores  
Defiling feet tread possession;  
Arrogance triumphant:  
Flags of Numenor rise!

The Word of the Father of All:  
The world changes, torn and sundered -  
Fire and water storm,  
The earth's flesh ripped apart!

Mighty Numenor overthrown;  
Death the pride-filled blasphemers took,  
Cold waves swallowing all -  
E'en fair Míriel.

Pharazon entombed in dark earth  
Deathless until the Dagorrath.  
Sundered now Valimar;  
Bent for us the wide seas.

Lost, lost, lost; lost forever now  
Numenor of the Western Kings.  
'Neath the cold wine-dark waves -  
Glimpse the Meneltarma!

* * *

**PS: That first bit was not actually supposed to be part of the poem, just something I came up with that fitted so well that I stuck it in.  
****PPS: I have NOT abandoned any of my Silm fics. Not even the Maeglin one (A Betrayal To Make The Heart Bleed). They are just going to be slow-updating, an unfortunate consequence of an undisciplined mind. I write as the inspiration comes — I do not command the muse.  
****PPPS: Reviews? Please?  
****PPPPS: I have FINALLY watched The Hobbit. My verdict? A damn good film, but it's not quite Lord of the Rings standard. I'm a bit of a pedant – alright, I'm an accuracy nazi – and as such I raged a bit at it. Even so, a very good film. I liked it.  
****Morgaur out.**


End file.
